Scarecrow
by Androfers
Summary: From nothing to greatness, a boy that couldn't even do magic but could power guns and other weapons, builds his legend in Magical Britain, and further beyond. A tale of love, betrayal, torture, and unspeakable things. A crossover between Famous Scarecrow series and Harry Potter. Mainly Harry x Hermione, But Harry x Daphne on later arcs for a bloody good reason. -ON HIATUS-
1. Chapter I: Knowing

**CHAPTER I: Knowing.**

* * *

THE HOUSE AT NUMBER FOUR, Privet Drive, had always been resistant to change. Just like a few years before, it still had the same eroded white postbox and the same old-fashioned car on its old spot. The brick house was, still, coated creamy-white and the doors were, still, sore brown colored. However, the garden, once nearly devoid of life, had been rejuvenated recently, become near-perfect. Covered under a thin blanket of morning dew and bathing in warm sunlight, the brilliantly trimmed grass and blood-red roses were glowing surreally, giving the house a fine touch of perfection. The owners of Number Four, Privet Drive, could finally say conceitedly that their house was 'perfectly normal.' However, they could not say that for their family.

Despite telling everyone that how normal their family was, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley knew that they were far from it, and how could they be normal. Nobody was as fat…err beefy as Mr. Dursley was. He had hardly any neck but he did have a very big moustache. He was Director of a firm called Grunning, which made drills.

Mr. Dursley had married Mrs. Dursley, who was thin, blonde, had twice the usual amount of neck and very low self-esteem. She also had an odd habit of craning over garden fences and making snide comments about their neighbors. They also had a small, pudgy son named Dudley.

Under this thin layer of normality, the Dursleys were hiding a dark secret. They were afraid that if this dark secret came out, they would become an unDursleyish (Abnormal) family just like Petunia's in-laws the Potters, whom her sister Lily had married into years ago. Those freak Potters had gotten themselves killed and then, their freak friends had left their son on the Dursleys' doorsteps with a letter that explained near to nothing. The Dursleys shuddered whenever they thought about that day.

On a dull, normal Tuesday for the Dursley family, Mr. Dursley, or so to say Vernon Dursley, had picked his most boring tie for work and Mrs. Dursley, or once called Petunia Evans but now Petunia Dursley, had just finished her daily dose of morning gossip. Dudley, who was now not so little, was screaming for food while throwing small paper balls at the scrawny boy with messy black hairs called Harry Potter.

Harry Potter was the boy dropped on the Dursleys' doorsteps on a cold winter night. He was small and looked weak when compared with other children of his age. He did not stand out much in crowd and would flinch whenever someone tried to touch him, because of the abuse inflicted on him by the Dursley family.

Harry's relatives despised him with passion. They were infatuated with the notion of beating the freakishness out of him, and they had nearly succeeded. Harry had scars all over his body as testaments of the Dursleys' brutality, and some looked very painful. He also had a lightning shaped scar on right side of his forehead but that was not the Dursleys doing. No, it had always been there; acting as a reminder of his parents whom Harry hated for reasons he didn't know. The Dursleys had told him about his parents when he had asked about them but, the answer had only broken his sad, lonely heart.

"They were useless drunkards," she had said in a loathing filled voice, "and died in a car crash, dumping you on us." Then she had pointed at his scar angrily and had screeched, "You got it from that accident. Now don't ask questions!"

Don't ask questions — that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Harry was akin to a slave in the Dursleys' house. Every day he had to wake up earlier than his uncle and aunt, and then, he had to make breakfast for the Dursley family. A breakfast that he could only cook and watch the Dursleys eat. Harry always got breadcrumbs and water for food as the Dursleys didn't want to waste good food on him. This dull, boring Tuesday was not any way different.

Harry was cooking breakfast for the Dursleys and after that; he had to clean the entire house to earn his breadcrumbs and a glass of water. His arms had many burn marks and his fingers bore many scars inflicted by sharp kitchen knife. His beautiful green eyes were slowly filling themselves with hot, salty tears as the heat and intense steam stung them mercilessly. The pan, which had a broken handle, was not being nice either. It burnt Harry's hands whenever he touched it. However, Harry had to cook for the Dursleys, who only cared about food.

"Boy," Vernon bellowed at Harry after throwing himself on a wide sofa placed near the Television, "why isn't breakfast on the table?"

The living room, where Vernon had placed his old television and comfortable sofa, was neither too big nor very small. Perfectly normal sized was what it was, and it even had a small fireplace, which the Dursleys hardly ever used, and few small windows for sunlight. A plain wall with no door separated kitchen from this room. Overall, the house was painfully normal on the inside too. The only thing, which was not normal, was the cupboard under the stairs.

That damp, dark and excessively small cupboard was Harry's room. It wasn't because there was no spare room in the Dursleys' house. There was a spare room but their son, Dudley, wanted that room for his toys, and there was also the fact that giving Harry a room will be wastage of good space or at least that was what the Dursleys had always thought.

"I want food," whined Dudley while banging table with both of his hands. "Where is my food?"

"Just a moment, sweetums," Petunia cooed in a sickly sweet voice that had made Harry cringe. Harry hated whenever his aunt spoke in that voice because it always reminded him Petunia's cruelty. "Freak," she screeched, "Where is Dudley's breakfast? Don't you see my little Dinky Duddydums is hungry?" Harry swore silently as Petunia's loud voice made him nearly drop the bacon-filled pan.

He quickly placed delicious looking breakfast on the table that groaned under the immense weight, and silently stood there with clasped hands and lowered head. He could smell the mouthwatering aroma of freshly cooked food and hot tea, and coffee, but he knew that the Dursleys wouldn't allow him to eat with them. Even thinking about doing it was divine crime in The Dursleys books. Therefore, Harry just endured the painful growls of his stomach and waited for the Dursleys to finish breakfast. He hoped that the Dursleys would not eat everything but soon, it had become clear that they would rather get sick from overeating then give good food to him.

"What are you still doing here?" Petunia howled. "Go, weed the garden and dust the entire house." Harry slowly nodded his head and went outside to weed Petunia's garden while desperately trying to hold back a painful sobbing fit.

As Harry walked into bright sunlight bathed garden, he saw that Petunia had again managed to spoil his hard work. The garden was in a pathetic shape. Wild grass was growing everywhere, even on the small brick walls, and his favorite tree's leaves were covering nearly entire garden under a thin blanket of light brown leaves. A groan escaped from Harry's mouth and his face worn a mask of despair. With slumped shoulders and bowed head, he walked in middle of Petunia's garden and had begun his chore while silently sobbing and hoping that he would not fall sick as the cold wind kept making its way through his ragged clothes.

Harry could hear laughing sounds of the Dursleys. He knew that today was a special day. His aunt, Petunia, had been fretting over this days for weeks and when Harry had woken up that morning, Vernon had told him sternly, "Keep your freakishness in control or else…" Harry didn't had to guess what that 'else' meant. He had experienced it firsthand many times.

Harry didn't know what time it was, but he knew that it was past noon. He had seen Vernon start his old car and go to work, promising to bring many gifts for Dudley, as the said day was his birthday. Harry had also heard Petunia faint voice promising Dudley, "Yes, sweetdums, we will take you to the Zoo this afternoon." Harry had heard Dudley complain but he had tuned him out. He had a chore to finish, if he wanted his meal.

Past noon was the time when a sweaty, dirty, and fully drained Harry finally finished weeding or so to say cleaning Petunia's garden. He placed his hands on his lower back and gave his body a light stretch, which generated few quite popping sounds. Then, after he wiped sweat from his forehead, he chose to get his lunch, even if you could not call it a proper lunch. However, the moment Harry entered the Dursleys' house; he saw something that made him blink at least thrice. Harry just could not believe what he was watching.

Petunia Dursley was cooking.

She was actually doing some work, and if the smoke filled house was any indicator, she was failing badly in it. After coming out of his stupor, thanks to the loud bang of frying pan falling and Petunia emitting a volley of colorful curses, Harry silently closed the door and made his way outside the house to catch some fresh air and check if the pigs were flying in the sky. Nope, no pigs were flying in the sky. The fat woman, who lived few houses away, was still sitting outside. The old man of Number Seven, was still snoozing soundly.

"I must be dreaming," Harry muttered while gently rubbing his eyes. "There is no way my aunt would do anything. This has to be a dream, a bizarre dream." Thinking that, Harry pinched himself but instead of waking up, he yelped.

'This is not dream'. Harry took some time to digest this odd turn of event. He knew his aunt and for her, housework was a work for slaves; a slave like Harry was. Then, the reason hit him as thunder strikes a lightning rod. It was the day of Dudley's birthday, and his aunt, no matter how lazy she was, always cooked at least one meal on Dudley's birthday. If you had ever asked Harry about it, he would have said that it was another weird rule of Petunia Dursley but Harry never complained. He knew that if Petunia was cooking, then he had one less chore to do. Harry allowed the happiness of dodging a chore pass over him. He had also allowed a small smile to grace his lips until the ugly part hit him.

Petunia Dursley was cooking. She was COOKING. It's one thing to eat poison unknowingly but eating it knowingly could only be described as sheer idiocy. But, much to their terror, Petunia always made sure that everyone would eat her food; even if the result was food poisoning.

Harry could hear his stomach cringe in fear. He could feel his hunger running away like deer runs away from predators. He didn't blame his stomach for cringing painfully. Harry could understand it perfectly as he still suffered nightmares about Dudley's last birthday when Petunia had made a huge cake. Therefore, it was safe to say that Harry was not looking forward to either lunch or dinner. After all, he would rather starve to death then eat Petunia's cooking.

"I have to get out of here," mumbled Harry in a trembling voice as he glanced at the Dursley house. Harry didn't know what took over him next moment, but a sudden urge to start walking away from the Dursley house and go to the public museum he had visited once in his odd dreams, started to seize over him. So without thinking further ahead, Harry walked out of garden and when he passed the broken post box, with a nearly silent pop sound, he vanished in thin air.

* * *

A vortex of colorful lightning whirled around Harry as he felt immense pressure on every inch of his body that was trying ferociously to squeeze him to death. Searing pain started to dull his senses as the bright ball of white light started to become bigger and bigger.

"Stop it!" Harry whimpered as he closed his eyes forcefully and used his hands to hold both sides of his head, "STOP IT!"

His cries went unheard, as no one was there to listen. With a long, loud scream, Harry covered his face with his arms and in the next blissful moment, the bright white light had devoured him whole, relieving him from his intense pain.

Outside of the public museum that looked like a great replica of an old Roman building, a part of the busy tarmac road started to became slightly blurry. Automobiles passed though it without any trouble and the pedestrians, oddly, couldn't see it. For them, the weird blurry black vortex that was slowly becoming more and more visible just didn't existed.

POP!

THUMP!

These two sounds, each completely different from other, drew attention of some people but they, oddly, lost their interest when that blurry vortex threw out a black haired, skinny kid. It wasn't a brutal throw but nor was it a gentle one. Like a ragged doll, that skinny boy's back slammed into a nearby gift stand and he gave a nearly silent cry.

"Jesus Christ!" shouted the owner of that stand in a slightly odd accent. "Hey kid! You okay?" he asked in a worried voice. Harry could only grunt in reply, which that man took as a 'yes'. "Good Lord, kid. Here, sit here," he said while clearing nearby bench, and patting it a few times, and then, he handled a glass of soft drink to Harry, who took it with trembling hands.

"Drink it, you will feel better," said the man in an encouraging voice. "Idiot skaters, I am telling you kid, LosAngleas is getting worse day by day."

Harry only nodded his head in agreement, as his mind started to work in overdrive, trying to figure out that how did he had dropped himself more than thousands of miles away from Britain. Not that it was anything new for him. Strange things always happened around him. Like, once he was running away from Dudley's gang and had jumped over a trashcan. Next thing he knew, he was sitting on top of his school's building.

"Thank you, Sir," said Harry humbly after taking few sips of his drink.

The man waved his hand and said softly, "Don't mention it, kid. Just take care. Now, off you go." After gently placing the glass on the wooden bench, Harry thanked the man one last time, and started to walk toward the huge Museum.

Just went through an impossible event and first thing he was doing was to head toward the nearby public museum…. Yup, that was enough proof to convince Harry that something was seriously wrong with him.

The Museum itself was quite grand, if Harry had any say. Many beautifully carved white marbled Roman pillars supported the weight of the Museum, and the walls were painted bright white that increased the calming effect generated by the reflective white marbled floor. Wherever Harry looked, he saw many eerie but beautiful things and many sections that just demanded his attention. However, one section stood out amidst all other.

That section was 'The Greek and Roman Myths' section.

It might had been one of many 'strange adventures of Harry Potter' that had caused Harry to feel this way but he could swear that, that section was calling him, or more likely demanding his presence.

"Move you ungrateful brats!" Someone bellowed in a raspy voice. "I don't have all day to babysit you demons."

Harry looked around and found out that the Museum was not as empty as he thought it was. Many children in same dress, or uniform if you have to say, were walking around, either pointing at few things and laughing or complaining about how boring their trip is.

"MOVE!" barked a mid-thirties man who was quite fat and had a bald head. His eyes were obsidian black, which made his angry face even more terrifying to look. Having no knowledge about Museum nor having any plans, Harry opted to follow the crowd that, thankfully, was heading toward 'The Greek and Roman Myths' section.

As he walked into the said section, statues of Olympians and Titans welcomed his eyes. Created by whitest marble Harry had ever seen and carved with upmost precision, those statues were a work of art, masterpieces that claimed your attention even if you had just glanced once. So transfixed was Harry that he didn't even noticed that somebody was now standing near him.

"Lea, The Titan of pain," said the person who now stood near Harry. "And near her stands Tredus, The Titan of Regret." Harry casted a side-glance at the person and much to his surprise, instead of finding an old man, he found it to be a boy nearly of his age. The boy was healthier than he was, much to Harry's dismay, and had tidy black hair, making Harry even more jealous. He was wearing white T-shirt, black jeans, and white sports shoes. He had strong jaw and quite innocent face but something told Harry that this boy would become a heartbreaker one day.

"Shane Schofield," said the boy with bright blue eyes as he extended his hand in friendship. Harry casted a glance at his hand first and for a moment, looked at his face for any sign of trickery but found none. After he was sure that the offer of friendship was genuine and sincere, he grasped Shane's hand firmly and in a meek voice, said, "Harry Potter, pleasure to meet you." Unknowingly, a small smile crept on Harry's lips which made Shane smile lightly too.

He finally had a friend!

Jealousy, you can go to Netherworld.

"So Harry would you like a tour?" asked Shane. "I can be a better guide than others at least." Harry nodded his head.

"Perfect," said Shane in an upbeat voice as he clasped his both hands in front of him. With his left hand, he grasped Harry's right hand and while pointing at some direction, he said, "Let me show you some other cool statues and we might lose Gant in the crowd."

"Gant?" asked Harry in a confused voice. "Who's Gant?"

Shane shuddered for a moment and then, answered in a frightened voice, "My worst nightmare. She just won't leave me alone." Harry silently chuckled as response, which earned him a half-hearted glare. "Shut up. It's not funny," cried Shane but that only made Harry laugh even louder, making Shane scowl as response.

Suddenly, pain, an unimaginable amount of pain rushed through Harry's body as they passed a statue of a beautiful female Titan.

"Arrgh," cried Harry in a nearly silent voice. His voice, when he needed it most, had betrayed him but he knew that even if he had it, he would not have been able to scream. He could feel burning hot needles rushing inside his body just beneath his skin. Every part, every inch of his body throbbed with so much pain that giving up to the darkness seemed a better option than staying awake.

"Shane," whispered Harry in hoarse voice but Shane didn't hear him.

"Shane," cried Harry again in pleading voice, "help me!" but again Shane ignored his cry. A circle, no more than a circle, was the cause of pain. Harry could trace the source of his pain, and it was a mysterious circular wound that was glowing ugly yellow on his chest. It might have been more than a circle but his blurry vision didn't allow him to see its details. His breath had become strenuous and his right hand was tightly gripping his shirt or more likely, it was trying to tear it open. Sweat was pouring out of his body as water erupts from a fountain. For the first time, Harry was grateful that he was wearing ragged clothes, which were giving ample ways for cold air to circle around his body.

"You are mine," whispered a cold, hollow voice inside his head. "Mine, you hear me. Your soul, your body, everything you have now belongs to me."

"NO!" Harry yelled in protest but it proved futile. A bone chilling cold laugh echoed inside his head.

"Resistance is futile, young one." The cold, amused voice of that creature boomed in his head. "Give up and make it easy for both of us." Harry, scared to his very core, furiously shook his head in denial. Again, the cold laughter echoed in his head, scaring Harry even more.

"You are a strong one, youngling," said the being in an amused voice. "But even the strongest beings have fallen in front of me. You will give up one day that I promise you. But till that day, I will hunt you. I will fill your mind, your life, and your dreams with pain and nightmares. Entertain me, young mystic. Show me the power of your will."

Harry didn't know what was worse; the pain that was running inside his body, or the horrifying laugh of that being who had set his or her eyes on him. But right now, he could care less. The darkness tempted him as it promised to relieve him from his excruciating pain. Harry couldn't remember when he had given up fighting against pain. All he remembered was a panic-stricken face of Shane and a female voice hoarsely screaming his name, and then, a blanket of darkness had shrouded his vision.

* * *

"Is he even alive?" wondered someone in a surreal voice. It was hard for Harry to understand if the voice was of a male or a female, as the noise was a mixture of sounds of many laughing, joyously screaming children and tree leaves swaying calmly. He could also hear chirping sounds of birds, barking of dogs and meows of cats. Harry tried to open his eyes but they felt like lead. Moreover, when he had tried to move his arms and legs, his entire body had groaned under searing pain.

Cough! Cough! Argh! Cough!

"Dammit," cursed Harry as his face twisted into a painful expression. With both of his hands, Harry gently rubbed his ribs and coughed more a little bit. He slowly tried to raise the upper part of his body but he couldn't. His body didn't have enough strength left in it. Another colorful curse escaped Harry's mouth when he accidently pressed a sore spot of his ribs.

"He's alive!" cried someone again in a surreal voice. Curious about the surreal voiced person's identity, Harry slowly tried to open his eyes. Light brutally assaulted his eyes the exact moment he opened them slightly. Harry closed his eyes forcefully and rubbed them gently with his both hands. Again, slowly, he tried to open his eyes and thankfully, this time the light didn't hurt his eyes. Slowly, he raised the upper part of his body and balanced it by placing his arms behind him. But nothing could have prepared him for what he saw next.

As he blinked his eyes few times and cast a glance toward the direction, where he thought that person would be; he found a floating head of a teenage girl looking attentively at him. She had short black hair, a beautiful but scarred face and deep black eyes. For some time, Harry's brain didn't register what he was seeing. He just kept staring the floating head as his body became stiffer and stiffer. After few seconds of staring, a smile graced the lips of floating head and with bubbly voice it yelled, "You are alive!" and panic finally struck Harry.

With a sudden surge of newfound power, Harry gave a rather girly yell and pushed himself away from it. His eyes and mouth widened comically, and his breath became so fast that for a second, it even made that floating head worried about his health, for good reasons too. Harry had started to sweat badly and his normally pale skin was becoming even paler every passing second. There was also the fact that Harry had tried to speak many times but no words had come out of his trembling lips.

"Wh-Wh-Who are yo-y-you?" stammered Harry as he mustered his remaining courage.

"What?" asked the floating head in a confused voice as it transformed itself into a pretty girl's head. "What are you asking, Wizard? Speak clearly."

Harry shook his head furiously and slapped his face few times, making the floating head question his sanity. After taking few huge gasp of air to calm down his racing heart and disturbingly creative mind, Harry asked, "What are you and what is your name?" Oddly enough, that question perked her up first then, made her angry beyond comparison.

"My name is Tresia Longdone, young wizard," she said proudly. "I was the eldest child of Longdone family who lived on this patch of ground many centuries ago. And as for your first question young wizard, I am what your kind calls Shades."

"My kind?" questioned Harry curiously. "What do you mean by my kind? And why are you calling me a wizard?" This earned him an incredulous look from the floating head of Tresia.

"Don't lie to me young wizard," screamed Tresia's head angrily. "You fully know what I am talking about." Her eyes started to change into ominous red color, which made Harry afraid for his life.

"Please, believe me," pleaded Harry in a horrified voice, "I don't know what you are talking about. I am just Harry, the freak not Harry, the wizard. Please, I beg you, believe me." He even tried to stand up and move near her, but his legs gave in.

"Don't try to walk, you idiot!" barked Tresia as she circled around Harry. "You have gone through Magical Astral Travel. Rest for some time and that's an order." Harry nodded his head vigorously, happy that she was not angry with him anymore. He sat himself on trimmed green grass crossed-legged, and placed his hands of his legs. He took many deep breaths and allowed cold, refreshing wind to ease up his sore muscles.

"You said you are a Shade," said Harry in calm but a little scared voice. "What's a Shade? And what did you meant by Magical Travel or whatever you called it?"

Tresia gave him a soft smile and started to explain in an enticing voice, "It's called Magical Astral Travel. All magical beings can do it and it normally happens when a higher being summons someone like you."

"Higher being?" asked Harry, "What do you mean by higher beings?"

Tresia scowled at question, making Harry a little alert. "Do you even know anything about Magical world?" she asked him in an annoyed voice, but before Harry could answer, she gave a frustrated cry, "Of course you don't! If you knew then, you wouldn't have been working like a slave or even worse, a house-elf." Harry's cheeks colored up a little bit at that remark and he lowered his head in shame. He didn't know what a house-elf was, but the way Tresia had said it, he knew it was meant to be a big insult.

"How do you….." Harry didn't dare to finish that sentence.

"How do I know about your living conditions, young wizard?" Harry nodded his head and looked at her curiously. She let out a small sigh. "The answer is as clear as day. You are scrawny, have many scars and I have watched you working on that garden for hours. Everything points toward physical abuse." This revelation made Harry tug the lower right part of his ragged shirt tightly and bow his head to his embarrassment.

"Pay attention, you idiot!" she barked, again, making Harry raise his head and stare her intently. "By higher beings, I meant Gods, Goddesses, Titans, Immortals or whatever comes next in your shallow mind." Harry nodded his head slowly and urged her to continue.

"By your condition, I can say that you were summoned by a Titan, A female one." Harry's breath hitched, making Tresia smirk evilly. This was seriously not good.

"So you know about Titans," she said in clearly amused voice. "You know we Shades used to be their favored torture tools. We were used to continually haunt our target, or possess them and then, do unspeakable things to them." Harry gave a frightened squeak as response.

"A Titan…" whispered Harry in horrified voice, "summoned me?" His eyes widened in fear and nearly every trace of blood vanished from his face. "Why would a Titan summon me?" cried Harry as his eyes started to water up.

"To have a tea-party with you," said Tresia sarcastically. "Why would a female Titan summon you, you idiot? To mark you as her possession or more likely 'a plaything'. They always had a thing for green-eyed boys." She said the last sentence like it was foulest thing she had ever said. She could hear Harry weeping and hiccupping occasionally, and frankly, she didn't blame him for doing it. He had just heard that a female Titan had her eyes set on him. Crying was a natural thing to do.

"My advice would be, brace yourself, and make sure to stay away from others," she said flippantly. "For all we know, you might have been marked by Titan of pain, or failure, or havens know what else. Just keep a healthy distance from others and you will be fine, so stop crying!" But Harry didn't listen to her. He just kept on crying, asking all the deities that why was he cursed with such bad luck. He had lost his parents, he was treated badly by the Dursleys, by his teachers, even the nice old lady in Number Nine house, treated him badly, and now, he was cursed with this.

"You are a wizard!" yelled Tresia in an annoyed voice. "Act like one. Stop crying like those idiot Muggles. If you don't want to become her toy then start looking for a way out."

At that line, Harry raised his head and with a hopeful look and voice, he asked, "I can do that?" He sniffed few more times and asked again, "I mean, get away from her. Can I really unmark myself?" Tresia gave a long sigh and rolled her eyes.

"Of course you can, you idiot!" she yelled in frustration. "Heavens, you are such a drama queen. You are a Wizard. Go into the Magical world, train yourself and search for a way out. Fight her like a Sorcerer would."

Tresia smirked mischievously when she saw hope surface on Harry's face. He was so easy to manipulate, so easy to taint. She had given up on her quest for revenge many years ago but now, she could continue it. Harry was completely in her control and she was sure that he would do anything she would ask as price. The only thing left was to find the bloodline responsible for her death and then, she would leave Harry to suffer alone. After all, there was an old saying, 'Never trust a Shade.' If Harry was idiotic enough to trust her, then it was his loss not hers.

"Will you-," stammered Harry, scared that she might say no. "Will you show me the way to Magical world? ...Will you help me?" Tresia gave him a soft smile but in her mind, she laughed like a mad woman.

"Of course, I will help you." her voice sounded sugary sweet. "You can always trust me Harry. You can always trust me." Hot tears of relief escaped from Harry's eyes.

"Thank you," he cried in a relief-filled voice.

Tresia didn't answer. She just kept smiling. Everything had finally worked out in her favor.

* * *

**Don't forget to REVIEW. **


	2. Chapter II: Burning Down The House

**CHAPTER II: BURNING DOWN THE HOUSE.**

* * *

IF ANYONE HAD TOLD HARRY a few years ago that he is a Wizard and someday will have a Shade as a friend, Harry would had laughed madly, and had called that person barmy.

But things had changed.

A Shade had become his friend and he was a Wizard nonetheless, a Wizard whom a female Titan had marked, and his only way out was his sharp-tongued friend Tresia, the crazy Shade.

"I don't remember the name of that bloodline," she said sadly, "but, I can smell them. They are close, very close. In fact, I am sure they are in one of those houses." Harry looked at the direction she was staring and found those houses to be Number Three, Four, Five, and Six. Harry's stomach twisted anxiously and his throat started to turn dry when Tresia's eyes lingered on the Dursleys house longer compared to other houses.

After few moments of staring those houses, a stray thought hit him. He was back in the Privet Drive. "Whoa… wait a minute," he said urgently, "Where am I?" At that question, Tresia gave a painful, frustrated cry, making Harry cringe. He really didn't like the sound of that cry.

"Where do you think you are?" she cried in a frustrated voice. All those years of waiting had finally started to grate her mercilessly and then, like adding salt on a wet wound, Harry's ignorance about Magical world and its ways were pushing her on edge of her sanity, not that she had any left in first place. "You are in Britain. The Privet Drive, if you want exact location."

"But…but," Harry stuttered, making Tresia wish that she could just strangle him but alas…..she couldn't, much to her dismay. "But I was in America a few moments ago?" He cried, desperately.

"OH, For the sake of…!" she yelled, "What had I said about Magical Astral Traveling? Your body was here all the time. It was your soul that had traveled, and before you ask anything else, your magic had solidified your soul. Now, stop asking stupid questions!" That effectively shut Harry up, much to Tresia's pleasure who was adorning a pleased smile. She gave the gentle wind coming from the direction of nearby houses a curious sniff and after few sniffs, she started to grin madly.

"Yes!" she beamed. "They are here. I can smell there foul scent!" She, again, sniffed, and in next moment, her face twisted in revulsion. "You!" she barked accusingly at Harry. "You smell like one of them!"

"Me?!" Harry's face gave a shocked expression, which further transformed into a horrified one. "I am innocent!" he cried feebly in his defense. "And I don't smell like those people! I smell like myself!"

"Shut up!" she yelled as her face twisted in annoyed expression. "I never said you are one of them, you fool. I only said you smell like them…. Not that your natural scent is any good."

"I don't smell!" Harry cried in outrage.

"I said, shut up, you numb-nut!" Tresia shrieked furiously. This annoying kid was starting to give her a headache, and that was an impossible thing to happen. Shades never get a headache, and much to her chagrin, she could still hear him mumbling, 'I don't smell.'

_Why me?_ She asked herself morosely. _Of all of the good ones, why I had to be stuck with an idiot like him?_

"Stop your sulking, and listen carefully," She said softly, making Harry raise his head and look at her intently. "All I remember about them was: one of them was idiotically fat. No, forget that. His entire family was famous for being…. fat." Harry's eyes widened when he realized he knew people like these.

The Dursleys.

Harry had seen their photo album or more likely, Petunia and Vernon had forced him to see it. There Harry had noted few things about the Dursleys. Fattiness ran in their family, as Dudley's grandparents were enormous in size, and so were there grandparents, and the link continued to the first Dursley, which was, weirdly, an African-American stud. The Dursleys had tried to hide that picture from Harry and Dudley, but, much to their dismay, Harry had stolen that picture and pasted in on top of Dudley's family tree project.

Yup…. payback was sweet, even if it came with one week's starvation punishment from the Dursleys.

Tresia, somehow, had caught on with what he was thinking. "You know them, don't you?" she cried excitedly. "Tell me!" Her face twisted into a stern and threatening expression. "Tell me, or else… I will hunt to till your death." She didn't forget to smirk evilly at the end of sentence, just to add a certain scary effect.

"I…I…" Harry again stuttered. The Dursleys - even if they had abused him physically and mentally, and called him freak regularly- were still his family, his only living relatives, and Harry, in his right mind, just couldn't betray them. He just couldn't. Maybe he was not strong enough, or maybe he was just way to forgiving. But one thing was clear to him like daylight. He would not betray the Dursleys. After all, they were family…. even if the family was a brutal one.

"I don't know them," he said feebly, making Tresia livid.

"You are lying!" she cried accusingly and for a terrifying effect, she made her eyes shine horrifying red, and made her nose flared white smoke, and also made her hair dance like snakes. "Stop protecting them, and tell me!" But, oddly enough, she didn't scare Harry, and that made her even more frustrated.

"I told you, I don't know who they are!" Harry yelled in his defense but it didn't convince Tresia. She knew he was lying, which made her grit her teeth in anger. His voice held enough confidence, but his face had betrayed him.

_So close,_ she thought._ I am so close and this idiotically loyal boy won't open his cursed mouth._

Then an idea formed in her evil head, making her eyes sparkle, and twisting her lips into an evil smile. She was a shade after all and Shades were notorious for their possession ability. If he won't tell her what she wanted to hear, then she would force it out of him.

"Last chance, boy." Her voice was as harsh and cold as the Artic winds. It promised unimaginable horrors, pain, and things that a young child shouldn't have to bear. But if that was not enough to scare Harry, her next change in voice did manage to scare him a little bit. "Either tell me what I want to know, or else you won't like what I will do to you."

Harry, who was getting scared of the new change in Tresia, thought hard on the threat and the ominous outcome it promised. On one side stood his rather short self-conscious that was screaming at him, ordering him to betray the Dursleys. However, on other side stood his bigger than a T-Rex sized loyalty that ordered him to protect the Dursleys.

Two sides, one wanted to save his hide, other wanted to save the fatty hide of the Dursleys. Now it was up to Harry to choose, and choose he did.

He looked straight into Tresia's cold, uncaring eyes with sheer determination, and with unrelenting confidence, he roared, "I don't know them. Get that in that thick skull of yours!" He puffed out his chest and gave himself a mental pat on back. He was hoping to see a down-casted face of Tresia as he praised himself for being a manly man, but, much to his confusion, he found her smirking wickedly at him.

"I hoped you would say that," she whispered huskily, and her eyes shone with excitement, making Harry a little worried. Something was off and Harry didn't like it, not even for a single second. "Tell me, boy-" Again, that disturbingly husky voice came out of her mouth, "-what can a Shade do to humans?" Her breathes were labored and was that excitement in her voice? Harry didn't know. He could see her licking her lips, and looking at him as if he was some short of tasty meal.

"A Shade can possess any human….." Harry eyes widened with fear, as he understood what was going to happen next. The wind suddenly started to feel colder, and the small garden started to look way too big for Harry's liking. He was alone. He was helpless, but worst of all was that in a few moments, a shade was going to possess him. Suddenly the idea of betraying the Dursleys didn't sound that bad, but Tresia smashed that idea into small bits and pieces.

"I missed possessing so much," she said in a voice that reminded Harry the girls of those cheap late night movies that Vernon used to watch. The movies, in which the heroine would remove her clothes quite quickly, and would do unspeakable things with the hero in a quiet, dimly lit room. That thought alone made Harry cringe in revulsion.

"Yes, possessing you would be quite…pleasurable," she said huskily, and then, to add a certain after effect, she licked her lips while looking at Harry hungrily, making him feel deeply violated.

In next few moments, everything happened in eerie slow motion for Harry. He saw Tresia glide toward him, with that evil, greedy smile adorning her malice filled face. Harry watched her eyes twinkle madly with anticipation, with greed, with unthinkable thoughts, and all he could do was watch. Watch as she slowly touched his skin, making his bones shiver, and making his heart pound his ribs madly under the influence of heavy fear. He watched helplessly as she disappeared inside his chest, and a wave of electricity ran inside his body.

_Breathe, for the love of whatever is holy; breathe_, he mentally pleaded.

But his body didn't obeyed. Instead, it did the exact opposite thing and started to suffocate him. His heartbeat started to drop at alarming rate, pushing his mind into a thoughtless state, making his eyelids heavy, and turning the process of staying awake an ordeal.

"Sleep," a mystical, caring voice whispered in his mind. "Sleep, and allow the darkness to take your worries away." The voice was sweet, compelling, and reminded Harry of someone he knew once. Someone who used to love him dearly, who used to cherish him, used to kiss him on his forehead, and stare him through those beautiful green eyes lovingly.

Those beautiful green eyes, hidden behind a shallow wrap of silky red hairs, those hairs that Harry used to play with every time she cuddled him lovingly. She also had a beautiful face that Harry remembered. He also remembered that she used to tease him quite a bit, always hiding somewhere, and jumping at him when he had never expected, not that he minded.

"Sleep, my innocent, gentle baby," the warm voice said again, making Harry's eyes wet with salty tears. He remembered whose voice it was, whose gentle face he had just seen, and who was hugging him tightly, promising that everything will be okay.

"Mother," he croaked or was it sobbed, Harry didn't remember. The darkness was coming toward him fast and the voice of that figure, which Harry imagined as nothing less than an angel, was getting lower and lower. He mustered whatever energy had left within him, and gave a one final cry, "MUM!" That was all he remembered doing before the darkness had took over him.

* * *

SUCCESS, that word alone made Tresia a quite happy Shade, or however happy a Shade could be; even if Harry was still fighting against her for control and was winning. She had never thought that Harry's willpower would be that strong, and to conquer his body and conscious, she would have to use her 'recall' ability, an ability that used your deepest desire against you. In Harry's case, not surprisingly, his deepest desire has been to hear his mother's voice again. What was her name, Lilian, Liala…. no, it was Lily. Yes, her name was Lily Potter nee Evans.

Tresia scoffed as she started to go through Harry's memories. A Shade could do that easily. After all, they had ability to possess a human body; so naturally, they could go through their memories and know their deepest desires, their hidden fears, what they loved to eat, whom they hated most, and the list went on-and-on.

Apparently, not only this boy had been a slave but also was a spineless coward, which made Tresia feel disgusted. How could someone be this coward, she didn't know. She would had punched, or stabbed those Dursleys many times, if she was Harry.

Ahh, the Dursleys.

So they were his only living relatives, and abusing ones too. But why had he tried to protect them? That question made Tresia curious about the boy's thinking. So like any other curious Shade, she dived deeper in his memories and opened those doors that should never had been opened in first place. She watched as Harry parents died, she watched as that enormous man and that old man with a serious wanna-be-Merlin complex left him on the Dursleys doorsteps on a cold winter night. Her nose wrinkled in disgust when she saw Harry's suffering and wondered ideally, 'Should she kill them quickly or should she torture them to death?' After a long debate, the latter had won. She was a Shade after all, and inflicting torture was their form of fun.

But then came the memory of that 'Photo Album,' and everything changed for her.

With wide eyes and slackly opened mouth, she watched that fat man, Vernon… yes… that was his name; tell Harry everything about his ancestors. There he was, with the same cursed smile and puffed up chest. There he was, the monster who had violated her many times and then, when he was finished doing his vile deed, had cut her head, and burned her body and had thrown her head in a gutter.

A GUTTER!

Then he went on and got her mother declared insane, and got her father murdered by few local thugs in a dark ally. She had seen everything that had happened to her family. She had seen her mother dying after repeatedly banging the stony walls of her cell with her fractured hands. She had seen her little brother, who was not older than five when he had become an orphan, grow up in streets and die when a local thug had shot him in his chest. That was the time, when Tresia, the Shade had born as a flying head and had vowed to take revenge.

Lorius Longdone, the great, great, great grandfather of Dudley Dursley, was the one who had destroyed her family. A cruel smirk adorned her face, or rather Harry's face. The time had come for payback, for revenge. Just like the Longdones….no, the Dursleys had destroyed her family; she would destroy theirs, and once she was finished torturing them, she would kill them all in most brutal ways.

"Freak," some woman screeched, making Harry or so to say Tresia, to look at her direction. The woman, not surprisingly, was Petunia and she looked livid. Her clothes were a big mess of food stains, oil stains, and….burn marks? How in the world did she have burned her clothes while using oven and microwave? "Freak," she again screeched, "Come inside, NOW!" A possessed Harry rolled his eyes at her blatant idiotic behavior, and slowly made his way inside the brick house.

* * *

FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE, surprisingly, had changed almost completely in atmosphere, as the walls ornamented beautifully with winking colorful lights and paper gratifies and other decorative stuff, were trying their best to liven up the atmosphere by changing the morbid, suffocating atmosphere into a slightly joyous one. The cold chimney was gathering dust behind a heap of gifts that had concealed it completely. The table was beaming with delicious looking verity of foods, no doubt ordered from nearby restaurants, or at least that was what possessed Harry had guessed because there was no way Petunia could cook food this good.

"Here he is," said Petunia in disdain. "Tell him, Vernon." Her voice sounded void of the usual amount of enthusiasm she always showed when Harry was going to be….punished. This made possessed Harry a little bit alert. He glanced at Dudley who was sitting on a nearby chair, munching a chocolate cake while brooding. Vernon, who was sitting opposite of Dudley, was not in happy mood either. His face was steadily turning into a familiar shade of purple and his eyes that were already drowning into his fatty face, were glaring at him, promising all kinds of misfortune a wicked man could implicit on a defenseless child. However, even if from outside possessed Harry was trembling under the angry gazes of Petunia and Vernon, from inside Tresia was seething with anger. Anger that was soon going to erupt like an Volcano's eruption and when that would happen…

"Boy!" Vernon roared, making possessed Harry clench his fists angrily. "Much to my dislike, we are going to take you to the Zoo. So no freakishness or else…." Possessed Harry slowly nodded his head as he was too stunned by this new turn of events. A part of him was screaming at him that 'it's a trap! They are going to abandon you in the Zoo.' But his other part, the cursed curious one, was encouraging him to grasp this opportunity. And then there was Tresia, who was quickly shutting down the still awake parts of his mind and was telling him to stop fighting.

Suddenly Dudley screamed while pointing at him. "He's using his freakishness! His eye color changed!" This made Petunia shriek fearfully and Vernon roar.

"I told you, No Freakishness!" he roared while stomping toward Harry, grasping a nearby placed wooden baseball bat on his way and glaring at possessed Harry murderously. "I told you, Next time you used your freakishness, I will beat it out of you." His voice was deep and cold, and his eyes shone with nothing but ill intentions focused at possessed Harry. Possessed Harry looked around, only to find a slightly opened door and the absence of Petunia and Dudley. His heartbeat increased in pace when he heard the stomping sound getting louder. Vernon was clearly out of his mind as he was laughing nearly silently and ominously.

Possessed Harry's vision started to blur and the entire room started to dance in front of him as fear tightened its grip on him. His breathing became highly uneven and quick, and sweat stated to form on his face as his body begun to tremble slightly. Vernon was now just few inches away from him and he was nearly cornered. He tried to make a dash toward the main door but he tripped and fell on floor roughly.

"There's nowhere to run, you devils spawn!" yelled Vernon in an amused and hoarse voice that had a slight trace of something else or someone else. Vernon's voice was an odd mix of a voice of a dying old man and his normal angry self. Then, oddly, he laughed growlingly. "Time for your punishment," said Vernon as he swung his wooden bat but thankfully, possessed Harry had already lost his conscious. Before the bat could hit him, the darkness had stolen his conscious and had allowed him to drift into a land where no pain could harm him.

* * *

THE WOODEN BAT CAME TOWARD the right arm of unconscious Harry but instead of a sickening sound of breaking bone, the sound of wooden bat breaking echoed in living room. One part of the broken bat hit the china-vase placed on a wooden table that was near the cupboard and broke it into uncountable little pieces. Vernon stumbled back in surprise and fell on his backside.

"That was a foolish move, you fat idiot," a mystical famine voice echoed in room, making Vernon look bewilderedly here and there. "I am here, you idiot." Vernon looked at unconscious Harry and to his upmost surprise, he found Harry slowly raising himself by using his arms as support.

"You…You…How dare you!" Vernon shouted furiously.

"How dare me?" asked Harry flippantly after standing firmly on his feet and twitching his head toward left and right. He shook both of his shoulder lightly, earning a few popping sounds. Then he looked at Vernon disdainfully, and tilted his head slightly upward and placed his hands of his torso's pockets, making him look cocky. "How dare _you_, you piece of…." His voice was deep and furious, and it made Vernon even angrier as his face changed into a new shade of purple.

"Now listen, you ungrateful-"Vernon tried to yell but Harry silenced him by a snap of his finger.

"Shut it, Vernon," said Harry as his eyes sparkled in an eerie golden color. Few moments of silence passed between them in which strange hissing sounds started to echo in nearly every room of the Dursleys house. Harry gave an unnerving smirked that made Vernon slightly worried. Harry's right index finger pointed at a random direction and he said, amusingly, "You smell that, Vernon. Do you?" Vernon, confusingly, sniffed lightly and in next moment, his face twisted into a horrified expression. Harry raised his right hand near his face and said hoarsely, "Say goodbye to your family, Vernon, and my name is not Harry. My name is Tresia. The girl whom your ancestors had violated brutally. The girl who lost her family because of your ancestors." And she snapped her fingers and the house of Dursleys became a small part of Hell on Earth.

The hellish process of torture started with the room where Petunia and Dudley had hid themselves. First, the room gave an eerie glow of yellowish orange color. Then a blast of fire that blew the door apart let its presence known and after that, the blood cuddling screams of Petunia and Dudley Dursley who were burning alive, echoed in the house.

_NO! _ShoutedHarry mentally and he ducked quickly when he saw a wave of fire approaching toward him. The wave, fortunately, didn't hurt him but it the roof of living room and other wooden things and furniture had started to burn briskly. With his both hands, Harry firmly held his head as a new struggle had begun within his head. A struggle between Harry and Tresia and both parties wanted to control Harry's body for completely different reason. On one hand, Harry wanted to protect Dursleys because it was right thing to do and on other hand, Tresia wanted to burn them completely for what their ancestors had done to her.

_Get out of my head!_ Harry shouted but it only made Tresia laugh loudly.

_Don't you understand? _She asked while laughing. _We are one. I'm a part of you now. You can't get away from me. You can't get rid of me._

_You are wrong!_ Harry yelled in protest. _You are wrong. This is my head. My mind. And I order you to get out of it._ She again laughed loudly but she had heavily underestimated Harry's willpower and his odd power that Dursleys had named 'his freakishness.'

_What?! _Cried Tresia in a worried voice. _What are you doing? _Her fear filled voice echoed in Harry's conscious. _Stop it! Please, stop it!_ She cried pleadingly but Harry ignored her.

_I said, Get out of my head! _Shouted Harry as he gave a last push and threw Tresia in darkness.

_Noooo!_ Screamed Tresia in distress when she lost her control over Harry's mind and body.

The living room was still burning briskly when Tresia came out of Harry body. She looked like a bright ball of white light that was gradually getting bigger and bigger on Harry's chest until the light became so bright that it engulfed everything, making Vernon, who was sitting at a corner, and was crying and trembling madly, close his eyes forcefully. He had tried to make a dash toward the main door but his legs hadn't allowed him. The scene of his wife and son burning and screaming was still playing in his mind, paralyzing him and for the first time, making him pray for his safety.

*****The white light slowly dimmed and the briskly burning room made itself visible. The creaking sounds of burning and breaking wood slowly started to become louder and louder. The agonizing heat and coarse black smoke made staying and breathing in the Dursleys house nearly impossible. The circular mark was still glowing bright white, indicating that something else was going on inside Harry's body.

"Sssseeeyyyyaaaaa…..aaargghh…ahhhhh…." Harry cried hoarsely. Tears had started to form in his eyes, and his body was jerking painfully on floor, making him look like a person suffering from a high-powered electric shock.

A high-pitched scream filled the room, making Harry raise his chest slightly upwards and screaming silently with wide opened eyes. Slowly, like a scene from a hellish nightmare, a head….no, Tresia started to come out of Harry's body through the brightly glowing circular mark, screaming and cursing, and trying in vain to bite Harry's slowly vanishing, stiffened body. He was alive, she knew, as she could hear his heart beat dimly.

Another curse escaped from her mouth when she heard faint sounds of sirens, which were getting steadily louder and louder. She again bit air when a small blast happened on top-right side of her head. She was dying, and she knew it. It was a shades worst-case scenario as after death, only Hell was what awaited them. They will suffer in Hell for eternity, repenting for the sins they had committed as Shades.

"Curse you!" Her deep, coarse voice held unimaginable amount of loathing. "Curse you, and your bitch of a Mistress!" Her right eye suffered an inside blast, turning it into a small ball of fire. Harry's body was nearly transparent now, and a thin layer of small sparkling dust was shielding it, making Tresia's anger reach a new level of insanity.

She again bit in air and said viciously, "If I am going to die, I am taking you all with me….to Hell." Then, weirdly, she started to laugh madly, and her entire head started a horrifying show of fireworks that were erupting on every inch of her body. "You may have stopped the fire from catching gas-" she said forbiddingly, "- but tell me, how will you stop the brutal fires of Hell?" Harry didn't answer her, and how could he? He was, after all, laying unconscious on wooden floor, and was on the very edge of vanishing in thin air.

Then she screamed like a bullet stricken banshee, and died with a mighty blast, blowing everything near her to smithereens, and burning down every inch of one whimpering Vernon's body. Harry, by a lucky stroke of luck or by the help of some higher power, managed to disappear just before the wave of scorching heat burned the same place where he was laying, to crisps. However, the Dursleys house was not that fortunate, as the might blast blew the windows and door away from their hinges, allowing the black smoke to freely go through the open space, making all the pedestrians standing outside the Dursleys house run for cover while screaming fearfully.

"Did you see that?!" a woman screamed.

"Lord Almighty!"

"Mommy!" a child cried.

"Julia!" a black haired woman in her mid-thirties screamed. "What are you doing? Come here, NOW!"

"Bloody Hell!" A teenager shouted. "Where are those Firefighters? Where the bloody Hell are those people?"

The sirens had finally gotten loud enough to let people know that the firefighters and police were just around the corner, or maybe a few blocks away. Few people, who were brave enough, had started to throw water and sand on fire, and few of them even tried to jump into the viciously burning house of the Dursleys.

Emphasis of word "tried."

The fire had been brutal and hungry, as it was burning down the remaining Dursleys house greedily. The house looked like an uncontrolled bonfire, as the frames reached to a new level, making the garden and the tree burn under the intense heat. The pedestrians didn't know what they should do next. Many feared that soon another massive explosion would happen that will spread the fire, and will turn entire Privet Drive into an enormous heap ash.

Amidst the confusion, no one saw few cloaked people floating above the house on timeworn brooms. No one noticed them waving their wands in a rhythmic way, producing tiny sparks of lights that for a few moments covered entire house, and made the bright yellowish-orange fire vary in intensity.

"Negative," one of those cloaked people said in a deep voice. "No traces of Magic. This fire is natural."

"That's impossible!" another one of them shouted, shrilly. "This has to be Fiendfyre."

"Who lives here?" asked one of them in commanding voice, making it clear that he's in-charge of this little squad of cloaked people. The person floating nearby him starched his right palm, and muttered something quickly and silently, making a small paper appeared on his hand. With his left index finger, he traced the address of the Dursleys house and then he moved his finger at 'Name' section.

"Someone named Harry Potter," he said flippantly, ignoring the shocked expressions of his colleagues.

"Did he just say….."

"Dear Merlin!"

"Harry Potter…..lives there?!" one of them yelled incredulously.

"Yes, Harry Potter lives there!" their supposed leader shouted. His voice was a mixture of worry and shock. "Yes, he lives there…..and we just allowed him to be burned in fire."

The effect of what he said was swift, as nearly every single one of them stiffened in fear and those few who didn't, they covered their mouth with their hands to choke a cry. Below them, the Dursleys house finally stopped burning, as the firefighter and finally put down the fire. Police were questioning the pedestrians and few firefighters were bringing out burned bodies.

The Dursleys were declared dead in Muggle Britain next day, and their nephew, one Harry Potter, were declared as a prime suspect under the false statements given by the people of the Privet Drive.

Things were seriously not looking good for Harry, as the British Police was after his hide.

* * *

**[Author's note: - * from this sign I started to follow Tolkien's writing style. Please let me know if it's good or worse. For more easy understanding, last 1000 words of this chapter are written in Tolkien's writing style (or whatever I could copy or recreate.)**

**Also, thank you to those peoples who have chosen to stick with this story. Yes, real plan was to kill Hermione but now, when I see at previous plot, I can say that the story would had created a soft Harry rather than the cold hearted, S.O.B. I wanted him to be at near end of this book. I promise that cutting Hermione from the plot won't be sudden and…idiotic. I can already imagine at least 10 solid ways to make it happen.**

**Again, thank you for reading.**

* * *

**P.S. Don't forget to REVIEW; it inspires me to keep on writing!  
**


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